


Wet

by Fluffifullness



Category: Durarara!!
Genre: Durarara!! Kink Meme, Forced Wetting, Humiliation, Izuo - Freeform, Light Bondage, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Omorashi, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Wetting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-06
Updated: 2013-10-06
Packaged: 2017-12-28 16:04:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/993857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fluffifullness/pseuds/Fluffifullness
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He’s still mad, but desperation and humiliation can apparently trump that emotion even in people as temperamental as Heiwajima Shizuo.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wet

**Author's Note:**

> Written in response to a [prompt](http://drrrkink.livejournal.com/6253.html?thread=23310701#t23310701) on the kink meme and cross-posted on anon to the [part 11 overflow](http://drrrkink.livejournal.com/7382.html?thread=25187286#t25187286).

“What’s wrong, Shizu-chan? You’re squirming around an awful lot.”

Shizuo responds to Izaya’s taunt by making a little sound in the back of his throat. It’s actually hard to pin a label to it – a cross between choking and whimpering, high- and then low-pitched – but Izaya is engaged enough by now not to bother himself with linguistic technicalities. It’s _pleasant,_ that’s all, adorable and unguarded and angry – everything he likes to see in Shizuo at times like this.

“Oh,” he teases, then, and his hand ghosts up to tickle the rubbed-raw skin of Shizuo’s wrists. “Is this the problem? I’m sure Shizu-chan would have preferred metal, but – too bad! You’ll have to make do with rope for the time being.”

Shizuo’s breath catches in his throat, but he doesn’t stop glaring at Izaya.

“You fucking… drugged me,” he bites out, and the informant laughs. It’s not the first time Shizuo’s said it, of course, and it’s clear that he still hasn’t entirely wrapped his head around the concept of his situation. _Honestly –_ how surprising is it, really? It’s his own fault for letting his guard down so completely at dinner!

(And for enjoying with just a little too much fervor the sweet, fizzy drinks Izaya’d brought home after a job earlier today, for downing one after another and never suspecting that anyone as mischievous as Izaya could be plotting anything at all, having gone so far out of his way for the sake of a pointless nicety.)

“I had to,” Izaya purrs, tone mock-defensive. “After all, Shizu-chan’d never agree to something like this on his own.”

Shizuo jerks spasmodically when Izaya’s hand suddenly drops from the blonde’s arms – still bound quite securely to the wall above his head – to lightly stroke his crotch through his pants. He barely touches him – only presses hard enough, in fact, to guarantee that Shizuo will feel it from the base of his cock to the head and back again, teasing and, if he’s doing it just right, tickling.

Shizuo takes a loud, uneven breath and then lets it go with a combined sigh and groan, so Izaya concludes that he’s done it just right, after all.

“D-don’t,” Shizuo hisses, and when Izaya’s immediate response winds up being a quick squeeze through tightening fabric, he looks like he’s about to cry. His cheeks are flushed, eyes damp and desperate. “Izaya – f-fuck – I’m gonna –”

“You’re gonna what, Shizu-chan? Cry?”

The blonde struggles away from Izaya’s hand, chest heaving – quick, shallow breaths that force him to leave his mouth open, drool escaping at one corner – and he shakes his head violently from side to side. “N-no,” he chokes out, and Izaya grins at him – has to keep his own front up, after all, but even so he’s increasingly aware of how tight his own pants are and he’s eager to get on with the show.

“If you admit to it,” he entices, “I might consider letting you go.”

Shizuo flushes impossibly darker.

“What?” Izaya continues with a little laugh. “Afraid you won’t make it already?”

“No – I can,” Shizuo stammers after a moment. He lowers his gaze, meeker now as the whole length of his body rocks again and he crosses and uncrosses his legs in a desperate bid to buy himself some time. “Just – the rope. Please.”

Izaya tries to look like he’s considering for a moment – even leans back and away from Shizuo to hold a finger to his chin in thought. For Shizuo, that means a brief reprieve from the hot gusting of his breath on the bare skin of his chest and from what must be a constant tingling as he awaits inevitable touches in unpredictable places. It’s how Izaya’s been torturing the blonde for nearly an hour, now, and it’s how Shizuo’s come this far already – desperate, half-wrecked and yet still stubborn enough to resist.

“I’d rather not,” Izaya decides, and Shizuo’s response is a sudden gasp-like release of all the air he’s been holding, waiting, in his lungs. “Don’t look at me like that,” the informant protests casually. “I’m only saying that you’ll have to do better than that, Shizu-chan. You still haven’t confessed to anything – for example, why is it such a big deal to you, anyway?”

Shizuo bites his lower lip, hard, and cocks his head to one side so that he looks just like a little puppy begging for a treat – unintentionally, Izaya’s sure. He’s still mad, but desperation and humiliation can apparently trump that emotion even in people as temperamental as Heiwajima Shizuo.

“I have to go,” he grunts, and then he repeats himself once more, extra quiet so that Izaya has to lean close just to hear him.

“And? I won’t stop you. Have right at it.”

Of _course_ Izaya knows that Shizuo’s not about to do that – he doesn’t mean it, anyway – but he must sound like he does because Shizuo’s eyes immediately widen as he begins to squirm,  disbelief coloring his voice as he pleads, “The clothes from my brother – _Izaya.”_

“Oh!” Izaya’s grin positively radiates amusement. “So Shizu-chan’s really just worried about doing something dirty in his special uniform, is that it?”

“No – _yes,”_ Shizuo snaps, panic bubbling in his voice as Izaya’s hand comes down to hover just above his bladder. “Yes – but –”

“But?” Izaya coos.

“Get the fuck off me!” Shizuo snarls back – anger suddenly and entirely renewed. He resumes his steady pulling at the bonds on his wrists, chokes on a steady stream of air and profanity and comes entirely too close to crying as he makes an obvious attempt at clenching his lower muscles just enough to keep himself together. His body is curved sharply, forming something of a ‘C’ nestled between the floor and ceiling.

Izaya lets him stay that way, but he doesn’t move back any more than he has to to let Shizuo position himself in whatever manner he thinks will help him maintain control.

“What’s it feel like?” he wonders, smirking lazily and when Shizuo only stares incredulously up at him he laughs and adds, “Tell me in as much detail as you can and keep holding it for fifteen minutes. Just fifteen minutes – and I’ll cut the rope.”

“Liar,” Shizuo chokes.

“I mean it,” the informant promises, smirk diminishing instantly to little more than a friendly grin – sympathetic, even, and he keeps the rest of his face impassive enough that he must look at least moderately trustworthy to a man who’d momentarily give anything to believe him.

The blonde whimpers as another spasm wracks his tense frame. “Fuck – no – haaahhh –”

“Don’t you mean ‘yes,’ Shizu-chan?”

There’s a short moment of loaded silence before Izaya laughs and moves up to lie beside Shizuo. The blonde sucks in a sharp breath but still says nothing – at least, nothing until Izaya grins wide and sets his hand actually on Shizuo’s stomach, just a few centimeters above his full bladder.

“Stop,” he hisses.

“Oh, I’d be glad to,” Izaya purrs, “but I think we both know that that’s Shizu-chan’s to decide.”

Shizuo’s eyes widen even before Izaya’s hand glides lower and presses lightly on that crucial spot. He gasps and chokes and starts to say Izaya’s name, but the informant pushes harder and harder and he’s cut off by the unmistakable hiss of liquid escaping into his clothes.

Hearing that, Izaya immediately pulls back to watch Shizuo’s face and neck turn a deeper, cherry-bright red. He tries to pretend that he’s still totally fine, not teetering on the brink of letting more of his control go. The pointless deception might’ve even worked if it hadn’t been Izaya initiating the release; for now, at least, there’s no visible stain.

“What did it feel like?” Izaya prompts with a sugar-sweet smile.

Shizuo whines and twists his head stiffly from side to side. “Izaya, I don’t think I can – h-hold it that long,” he rasps quickly.

“How’d it feel, Shizu-chan?” Izaya repeats, patient.

Shizuo groans, but his resistance is already nil. “G-good,” he chokes. “Looser.”

“And now?”

“My legs feel weak,” the blonde starts, his head lowered and eyes shut tight. “Th-there’s too much pressure. I can’t…” He shudders and curls in on himself. “I – I’m getting tired,” he admits. “All over.”

Izaya chuckles lightheartedly, pulls out his cell phone – slaps his companion’s cheek lightly to startle his eyes open, then shows Shizuo the timer he’s just started.

“Fifteen minutes,” he reads. “Keep going.”

“I can’t!” Shizuo repeats, incredulous, and in the next moment he’s writhing and twitching and his legs are crossed, pulled close to his chest as his breathing quickens desperately. His eyes are screwed shut again, but now it’s only the spots directly beneath his eyes that are flushed – so he’d look like he was crying even without the added hint of shiny wetness lining his lashes.

“Shhh,” Izaya comforts, pressing a quick kiss to Shizuo’s forehead; it’s just a little bit sweat-damp. “If you can’t hold it, I promise not to punish you for more than a day or two.”

Shizuo stares up at Izaya. “What’re you…?”

“Oh, didn’t I tell you?” Izaya wonders, exulting in the apprehensive glint that’s now mingling with intense concentration in Shizuo’s eyes. “If you wet your pants before I’ve given you express permission to, you’ll pay for it in – well,” he laughs, “various ways. Does it really matter, anyway, Shizu-chan? We’ve been here for over an hour already. What’s another quarter?”

“Fucking _too much,”_ Shizuo grunts. “And I’m not gonna play any more of your stupid games, Izaya.”

It’s the most eloquent thing he’s said so far – though, to be fair, Shizu-chan is hardly the eloquent type even on a good day – but Izaya manages to ignore it without looking particularly surprised. He can tell based on sight alone that Shizu-chan’s going to lose it any minute now; the fact of the matter is, quite frankly, more than capable of destroying any and all of the blonde’s flimsy attempts at acting strong.

“If you’d like to beg, though – by all means,” Izaya whispers into Shizuo’s ear. He makes sure that the fabric of his shirt traces a slow line up the blonde’s chest as he leans over him.

Shizuo splutters and shies away, but the panicked look in his eyes says that he’s heard Izaya perfectly. He doesn’t even look like he’s willing to argue with him anymore.

“And before you ask,” Izaya adds, “I won’t tell you what I want. You’ll have to come up with something on your own.”

Shizuo lets his breath go in a single, determined stream. “Y-you can top,” he suggests. “Every time. Whenever you want – _please.”_

So much for refusing to play Izaya’s games; these rules are his, and the steps are simple. They both know who’s going to win.

Despite the reaction that Shizuo’s words prompt in Izaya’s lower regions, the informant only laughs – almost can’t keep himself from laughing, no thanks to the high buzz of arousal made more and more by Shizuo’s temperamental reactions to a different kind of need. Of _course_ the idiot’s first instinct would be to offer sex as bribe.

Izaya feigns a pout. “That’s not very creative, you know.” And then he grins, hugs himself to Shizuo’s side and murmurs, “I’d tell you to get your mind out of the gutter if you weren’t about to immerse yourself in it, anyway.”

Shizuo shivers. “Don’t move so much,” he whispers, voice quavering. “F-feels like it’s all gonna come out –”

“It is,” Izaya predicts with a bluntness that all but sweeps Shizuo’s breath away. His eyebrows slant downward in a frown that lacks most of his usual ferocity, and in the next moment he’s practically shouting again.

“Then why the hell are we – wait – Izaya!?”

The informant smirks. He has both of his hands pressed to Shizuo’s knees – just resting there, for now, but there’s mischief showing on his face already and he knows it.

“Are you looking forward to the feeling? Can’t wait to humiliate yourself in front of me?” He leans closer and tightens his grip on Shizuo’s knees as the corners of his lips rise in a smile; he kisses Shizuo behind his ear. “That’s okay. You can trust me; it’s the best chance you’ll ever get to make a complete mess of yourself. Let someone else take control.”

Shizuo chokes back an obvious sob. “H-how much –?”

“Too much,” Izaya echoes Shizuo’s earlier complaint without bothering to check the timer, and of course he doesn’t stop there. “I bet you want to know what it feels like, just a little. So how about this? You don’t have to worry about telling me how it is. _I’ll_ tell _you,_ and then we’ll see if I’m right.”

Shizuo looks about to scream. He’s already more or less in tears, though of course he’s fighting that almost as hard as he’s fighting his too-full bladder.

“Your whole body’s going to relax,” Izaya purrs, still close enough that his breath should be part of the reason Shizuo’s radiating so much warmth. “You’ll panic, but only for a second.”

Shizuo moans and gives his arms several weak tugs. It’s hard to tell how hard he’s really trying.

“I think you’ll be surprised by how easy it is to accept it after the first moment. Especially,” Izaya coos as he reaches up to run his fingers through Shizuo’s disheveled blonde, “because it’s going to be so warm. It’ll really feel good, but who knows if you’ll get as far as admitting that to yourself. Mostly, you’ll feel like you have to try to act mad. But I know – how humiliated you’ll be. Knowing Shizu-chan, it wouldn’t even surprise me if you cried a little harder after you’ve finished.”

Shizuo’s gone rigid. He’s staring hard at his crotch, at Izaya, at Izaya’s hands on his knees as they begin to – ever so slowly – pry his legs apart.

“No,” he cries suddenly. “Fuck, I’m – I’m actually going to –”

Izaya shushes him one more time before pausing with the blonde’s legs halfway open. Shizuo does as he’s told and stays quiet, but his eyes are red-rimmed and he’s breathing almost as hard as Izaya. He twitches fearfully as Izaya moves just far enough forward that his own body works to hold the blonde’s legs open.

“Not fair,” Shizuo whimpers as Izaya’s hand again lands squarely on his bladder. “Y-you can’t honestly – ngh – punish me for this, not if I can’t even –”

“Shizu-chan,” Izaya warns, and Shizuo abruptly cuts off. His gaze flits up from Izaya and his hands and his own mess of a body to rest on the informant’s face. “Almost done.”

He gives Shizuo only enough time to open his mouth partway. No sound comes out, though, and then Izaya is using one hand to shove Shizuo’s legs farther apart – and the other, of course, to press his hand heavily into the soft flesh of his abdomen.

He can feel the pressure diminishing even as he continues to push. Shizuo makes a sound that is neither an inhalation nor an exhalation, and then he’s grunting softly, scrambling at the floor and crying in a combined expression of relief and despair. His pants are quickly soaked through, but Shizuo’s nowhere near done; a small puddle appears on the floor and begins to spread outward as the blonde squirms and blushes and then finally goes still.

Izaya grins from a clean spot a few feet away.

“Looks like your childish nickname fits you better than you’re willing to admit.”


End file.
